


I Know

by yay_for_absurdism



Category: One Piece
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29773800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yay_for_absurdism/pseuds/yay_for_absurdism
Summary: Crocodile has a lot of secrets, and Daz figures out one of them.
Relationships: Crocodile/Mr. 1 | Daz Bones
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	I Know

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble I wrote while procrastinating on an actual full-length fic.
> 
> Enjoy!

“I know.” 

In his opinion, it wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure it out. 

Daz h ad been able to tell, when they’d been escaping from Impel Down, that there was tension between Crocodile and Ivankov. More so even than between Crocodile and  Strawhat Luffy, despite the obvious past they shared. 

Of course he knew who Ivankov was. Being a former bounty hunter and assassin, he’d been well informed on the criminals all around the world, and it would be hard to miss knowing about someone as infamous as Emporio Ivankov. So he, in turn, knew of the man’s Devil Fruit abilities. And what he could use them for. And what he often did use them for. 

Daz had a lot of time to think, in their journey to and through the New World. It was just the two of them, and Crocodile wasn’t exactly one to dabble in extraneous chit-chat. Which suited Daz just fine, the long stretches of silence between them were comfortable, as comfortable as the smell of cigar smoke and metal and blood and dry, warm sand that  permeated the ship. But he had a lot of time to think, and so he did. 

It was nothing substantial, just a lot of small things. Nothing concrete, nothing damning, just small things that struck Daz as odd, or at the very least noteworthy. It was hard to explain in precise terms, but when you become close enough to someone that you were just as familiar with them naked as clothed, you notice things. And so as he got to know his boss better, as they became closer, the small things fit together neatly into an explanation that more or less made sense. 

Maybe that was why Crocodile was such a secretive man, a man who trusted no one. When you let people in, give them a bit of trust, a part of yourself, you give them the tools to learn more. 

He watched Crocodile’s face contort in response to his statement. First, shock, surprise, eyes widening, before quickly melting into anger, barely controlled, biting down so hard on his cigar he almost bit right through it. Enough anger that Daz figured he might have to fight off an attack, or maybe he might be killed. But then, as the emotions had  waxed they then waned, settling into the normal haughty, lazy glare, only now tinged with poorly feigned ambivalence, hesitation, embarrassment, a hint of concern. 

Daz had maybe expected Crocodile to deny it, brush it aside, but he didn’t. “You’ll keep your mouth shut or I’ll cut your tongue out.” the man replied, making a vague, threatening gesture with his hook. 

For a moment Daz was silent, watching his boss, watching him shift in his seat, lean back into the cushions. “Do you think it matters to me?” he asked. 

“It had better not.” 

“It doesn’t.” 

There, just the tiniest bit of relief. Crocodile might be a powerful man, a cold, cunning pirate, a former Warlord of the Sea, but he was still a man, susceptible to emotions and insecurities from time to time. “Good.” he said, and he stamped out the butt of his cigar in the ashtray, grinding it down with excessive force before placing a new one between his lips. 

Daz leaned forwards, reached out, and it lit for him. “Did you think it would?” 

Crocodile’s subsequent glare was a clear sign that the conversation was over, and so Daz didn’t press the matter anymore. He was curious, and he did wonder what Crocodile thought his reaction would have been, but he knew it was in both of their best  interest not to press the matter. 

He didn’t bring it up again, and Crocodile didn’t either, of course. And nothing changed, not really, they continued to sail through the New World, just the two of them, the silence between them still comfortable. Perhaps, though, there was a bit of tension in the air, perhaps a bit more of Crocodile keeping to himself. 

Perhaps it was a bit apparent, when the sun had set and they were below deck, the flickering flame of the bedside lamp casting long shadows. When he knelt on the soft sheets of Crocodile’s bed, the air in the room hot and humid, his hands grasping his boss’ hips, his lips pressed to the man’s chest. 

“Don’t touch me so gently,” Crocodile hissed, as much of a complaint as it was a demand. A demand laced heavily with the unspoken implications that lay just below the surface, evident enough to both of them now,  _ don’t touch me like you would a woman _ . 

Daz would never, if Crocodile didn’t want him to. “I won’t.” he replied, and so he didn’t. He dug his fingers into Crocodile’s skin, hard enough to bruise. He bit down, hard enough to draw blood. He thrust his hips, harder, faster, hard enough to pull a hiss of pain, a moan of pleasure, from his boss. 

He didn’t mind, because it was better for him like this too. But he wondered if Crocodile ever considered that gentleness was not a luxury afforded only to women. 

The wind was cool, dry, indicative of the Autum island they would reach within the next day or two. Daz heard footsteps behind him on the deck, and Crocodile came to stand beside him at the bow. For a long moment the man said nothing, just looking out at the sea, but eventually he spoke, words almost stolen away by the wind, “You want to know more, don’t you?” 

It had been a while since Daz had broached the subject originally, but he knew what Crocodile was referring to. “Yes.” He wouldn’t deny it.

Crocodile chuckled, running a hand through his hair, brushing the stray windswept strands back into place. “Of course you do.” 

“Will you ever tell me?” 

The man looked at Daz, and then back out across the sea, “Maybe.” 

In response, Daz simply nodded. Then he’d wait. Maybe forever. And that was okay. He wanted to know, but at the end of the day, as he had said, it didn’t matter. Not to him, at least. 

**Author's Note:**

> Can't stop won'd stop writing Crocodile/Daz fics I love them too much. 
> 
> Tumblr at https://darknebulablader.tumblr.com


End file.
